


Blessed Be

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heady nights and home brewed cider lead to rash, but brilliant, decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed Be

**Author's Note:**

> Got thinking about the Summer Solstice. Wrote this. You can blame Cursed Child, it's making me want to cling to what I know.
> 
> Warnings / Content: Language, fluff, angst, impulsive actions

“Remind me why we're here again?” Harry whispered, as another shiver coursed through his body.  
  
“Because.” Ron leant back and rested his weight on his hands. “It's tradition, Harry.”  
“You've said,” he muttered.  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around himself to try and warm up. The massive bonfire in front of them did nothing to warm him, but he presumed he was alone given that Ron was in an old t-shirt with bare arms and everyone around them seemed unaffected by the chill.  
  
Glancing at his watch, he was dismayed to see that they still had a good few hours to go before the sunrise. He watched as someone tossed what looked like half a tree on top of the bonfire – the fire gave an almighty crack which made him jump.  
  
“I used to love this night when I was a kid,” Ron remembered aloud. “Because I got to stay up all night and nobody would tell me to go to bed. We'd all sit around and Charlie would slip me some cider... nobody ever noticed or if they did they didn't tell either of us off.” He paused to sip some cider which he was allowed to drink and smiled to himself. “They're some of my favourite memories.”  
  
Harry nodded and looked at the fire again. His eyes were starting to sting from the glare but he kept on looking, mainly because he didn't want to see the dreamy, nostalgic look on Ron's face.  
  
That was harsh. But with each passing year it seemed to hurt a little more that Ron had childhood memories and every single one of his was tainted by his Aunt and Uncle, and Dudley getting everything and he nothing. He'd thought it would get easier as he got older. He was still waiting.  
  
Another shiver passed through him and Harry was so wrapped up in his bitterness that he didn't notice Ron moving next to him. The first he knew was when a thick hooded jumper was draped around his shoulders.  
  
“You're freezing,” Ron murmured, holding it in place as Harry slipped his arms inside.  
  
When it was safely on his shoulders Ron crawled around to kneel in front of him and did the zip up to Harry's chin. Though he was enjoying the closeness, he couldn't help but look worriedly around them to see whether anyone was paying attention.  
  
It was all too complicated.  
  
“Nobody's watching, Harry. They're all three sheets to the wind and you know what it's like – what happens round the bonfire stays round the bonfire.”  
  
Ron fell down next to him again, rather nearer than before, and Harry held his breath as the redhead leant against him. Without saying a word, Ron reached down and covered Harry's hand, hidden between them, with his own. His fingers twitched at the touch.  
  
He wanted to do more than just sit there. It had been two years and Ron's proximity to him still made him feel full of charge. Two years since that initial kiss – tentative and gentle – and they'd done so much more since, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. Ron had been dressed very similarly to what he was wearing that night, and Harry had been cold that night, too.  
  
He was often cold, but it was much nicer when he had Ron to protectively drape something over his shoulders, or pull him into an embrace to warm him up.  
  
“Finish this. Might put some colour back into your cheeks.” Ron passed him the remainder of his cider bottle.  
  
It was home brewed and ridiculously potent – Harry hadn't had any because he wanted to keep his wits about him. Whenever he imbibed Arthur's finest work he always ended up in some kind of trouble, and that night, when he felt so strange and out of sorts, and with a dirty great fire next to him – he wanted to stay sober.  
  
Despite that he put the bottle to his lips and took a mouthful for something to do. Ron rubbed his nose and then carded his fingers back through his hair. Harry watched him, because he couldn't not watch him, and Ron smiled self-consciously.  
  
“What?” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.  
“Nothing. Just appreciating the view.”  
“Well, they do say Devon is quite nice, to be fair to you.”  
“Ron.”  
“And, I guess the bonfire is pretty awesome. Not to mention that guy from the Post Office over there. He pushed me in a pond when we were little.”  
“He's a Muggle though.” Harry made a face.  
“What, and you think that seven-year-old me had enough magical prowess to stop himself being shoved into a pond?”  
“No, I mean... what were you doing with a Muggle when you were seven?”  
  
Ron laughed then. Harry was confused.  
  
“Harry, I had friends before you, you know.”  
“Muggle friends? If you had Muggle friends then why, for the love of Merlin, do you still say the word 'telephone' wrong at the age of thirty?”  
“Partly because it winds you up. Partly because it sounds better my way. Partly because I forget.”  
  
Harry laughed himself then and drank some more cider.  
  
“Did you think that I just knew my brothers and my sister and came to Hogwarts surprisingly well-adjusted?”  
“I thought you came to Hogwarts lonely and bored and with absolutely no experience of Muggles.”  
“Git.”  
  
Harry smirked to himself and polished off the last of the bottle.  
  
“Anyway, why would a friend push you in a pond?”  
“I kind of deserved it.” Ron snorted.  
“What did you do?”  
“Kissed his girlfriend.”  
“What?!”  
“Oh keep your wig on.”  
“You were seven!”  
“And she was nine and she kissed me first. And, you know... stupid kid kissing. She pecked me on the cheek so I did it back. Then she told him about it, because that's what kids do. He hasn't spoken to me since.”  
“Don't blame him. I wouldn't have talked to you either.”  
  
It suddenly struck him as strange that he knew very little of Ron's childhood outside of what had happened with his own family. Harry suddenly felt bad about it.  
  
“Why haven't you ever told me about that sort of stuff before?” he asked thoughtfully.  
“You never asked. And... well... Call me a sap if you want, but I don't really regard my life before you walked into it as anything special. Everything got ten times better after you did.”  
  
Harry looked down at the grass between his thighs.  
  
“That does make you a sap,” he said finally, keeping his voice low to try and mask the emotion coursing through him.  
  
Ron never failed to amaze him. At times he could still be excruciatingly and awkwardly insensitive. He could be cruel with his words, just as Harry could.  
  
But every now and then he came out with something which legitimately took Harry's breath away.  
  
***  
  
Three bottles of cider later, Harry was warm and happy. Somehow he had found the courage to lean fully against Ron and, though they were will full view of everyone at the gathering, Ron had looped his arm around Harry's chest from behind. His head was lolling comfortably against the redhead's shoulder. All he had to do was turn his face to the side and he could inhale Ron's scent from his t-shirt.  
  
They were both drunk and they'd never be sitting there as brazenly if they were sober. They'd made it the first rule of dating one another that they wouldn't tell the family until they were completely ready. That was seemingly out of the window.  
  
Harry could ask about it, demand that they find somewhere more private.  
  
But the reality was that he was comfy, the fire was warm and he didn't particularly give a fuck who saw then, as long as nobody started asking questions. If he knew Ron's family, they would soon enough.  
  
Ron shifted behind him, stretching out his spine before settling back into place. He brought his other arm around Harry's torso and pulled him close. He pressed a kiss into his hair.  
  
“Mm... Ron...”  
“What?” he whispered, tickling Harry's ear with his breath.  
“So nice.”  
“I know.” Ron nuzzled against him. “Still think this is stupid?”  
“Kind of stupid,” Harry admitted.  
“Maybe it is. But it never feels anything but special. Tonight's no exception.”  
  
Ron kissed his cheek with an open mouth and Harry shivered where he sat.  
  
“Do you think we could... slope off somewhere?”  
“Thought you'd never ask.” Ron grinned at him and released Harry's body.  
  
He wished he hadn't said anything.  
  
“C'mon,” Ron whispered, grabbing one of his hands and tugging him away from the fire.  
  
They left behind them flattened grass and empty cider bottles. Nobody paid them any attention as they slipped into darkness, outside the firelight's reach. Ron broke into a run and Harry tried hard to keep pace with him. His chest began to sting after only a few moments, which he fully blamed on the Arthur's cider. Ron suddenly stopped and jumped down onto a lower patch of earth. When Harry stilled he realised he could hear a river: trickling water peaceful in the night.  
  
“Here.” Ron grabbed his waist and, seemingly without any effort at all, lifted Harry down to his level on the riverbank. “You okay?”  
“Mmhmm. You know your way around here.”  
“Misspent youth,” Ron promised with a grin. “We're alone though. Or if we're not, then it doesn't matter, too dark to see anything anyway!”  
  
Harry laughed and Ron took his hand again, leading him over the dried mud to the trunk of a massive, surely ancient tree.  
  
“Here.” Ron sat down and patted the ground next to him.  
  
Happily, Harry went. He resumed their closeness, wrapping his arm around Ron's waist. He kissed him. A soft moan was Ron's only real response.  
  
He pressed the issue, forcing his tongue into Ron's mouth and swung his body over his boyfriend's long legs, pinning him to the ground. Carried away with himself, he gathered Ron's hands in his own and then pressed them back into the bark of the tree.  
  
Ron didn't bat an eyelid at the dominating move – he merely sucked in a breath and resumed kissing Harry, arching his back to make more contact between them.  
  
It was just so _easy_ to be with Ron. If he'd known how easily they'd be what the other needed, he wouldn't have waited as long to broach the subject.  
  
“Harry, stop thinking,” Ron snapped suddenly. His eyes were narrowed. “C'mon, mate, nobody should pull that sort of face whilst they're having a good snog.”  
“Think a lot of yourself, don't you?” Harry retorted. “'Good'. I'll be the bloody judge of that.”  
  
Ron's laughter was loud and he spat a little in Harry's face.  
  
“Say it, don't spray it,” Harry muttered, wiping it off on the back of his hand.  
“You don't normally have any problems with me spitting on parts of you, Harry.”  
“Yeah well that's normally leads to sex, so...” he shrugged and dropped Ron's hands.  
  
Shaking his head, Ron leant back on the tree and sighed. He was smiling, though, and looked so relaxed Harry thought he might stay up all night and ply his boyfriend with cider more often.  
  
“So, this whole solstice thing... Midsummer. Why?”  
“Why not?”  
“Well in the Muggle world, it's a bunch of hippies who all go for a night at Stonehenge.”  
“Basically the same thing for wizards, except we know that the idea of the magic being stronger is actually true, whereas the Muggles are just kidding themselves.”  
“That's not fair. They have their own magic... spirituality, maybe. Some say they can feel magic at Stonehenge.”  
“Have you ever been?” Ron asked interestedly.  
“No... you?”  
“No. Stupid really as it's pretty much on our way to London and we did that journey so many times when we were kids.”  
“Well maybe we should go.”  
“Now?” Ron looked doubtful.  
“No, not now.” Harry rolled his eyes. “But one day. And maybe... maybe we could go to a few other places...”  
“Oh yeah, like where?”  
“Anywhere. Just as long as we're together.”  
  
Ron flashed him such a grin then that Harry temporarily found himself dumbstruck. He recovered himself enough to kiss Ron's forehead and sniff his hair. He smelt of woodsmoke from their night by the bonfire.  
  
In the distance, a loud cheer went up. Ron tilted his head back and looked to the sky.  
  
“Must be the first sign of the sun. They always get a bit excited. It won't reach us in here. Want to go back?”  
  
Harry thought about it, but shook his head. “I just want to be with you, Ron.”  
  
Ron locked his hands behind the small of Harry's back and pulled him close.  
  
“Harry. If I wanted to ask you something, but I wasn't entirely sure how receptive you'd be to it, would you encourage me to say it, or would you tell me to keep my big gob shut?”  
“Well it depends. Is it a good thing, or a bad thing?”  
“Good,” Ron promised. “Really good.”  
“Is it a surprise?”  
“Not really, not if you've been paying attention.”  
  
Harry stared at him, trying to twig what Ron was getting at. Ron tried to keep a straight face but ended up smirking at him and failing to contain his laughter.  
  
“You look constipated,” he explained.  
“Fuck you,” Harry swore, sticking his middle finger up at Ron.  
  
Ron laughed again, louder that time, but eventually he quietened down and, to Harry's dismay, suddenly came over all serious.  
  
“It's quite a big thing,” Ron went on softly. “And I don't want to rush things... ruin things... I just... tonight of all nights, when it's been so good and we've had so much time together...”  
  
A pang of guilt sank through Harry's torso. They both worked so hard and the time they got together alone was limited. It was him more than Ron who came home late, who never made dinner, never tidied the house they shared. Ron picked up so much of the slack he often felt terrible – but then at the next message from work he was gone, because he had to be gone if he wanted the promotion to the Head of the Auror Office. And that _was_ what he wanted.  
  
But he wanted Ron as well.  
  
“And I guess... I should tell you something beforehand, too.”  
  
Harry was starting to feel distinctly worried about the whole conversation. He almost wanted to tell Ron to stop – to not ruin the perfect night they'd had.  
  
“George has asked me to go in with him as partner.”  
“No way!” Harry cried, thrilled for Ron.  
“It would mean completely leaving the Aurors, Harry.”  
  
Harry blinked. He'd not thought of that. He sometimes justified spending so much time at work because Ron was there too. If the redhead left, that would be an even shakier excuse than it already was.  
  
“He's making a big move, offering partnership to me. That's a lot of responsibility and a lot of money. I kind of feel that if I'm going to take him up on it, he deserves all of my time. Do you think that's fair?”  
“Totally.” Harry shrugged. “I think this could be really good for you. I know it hasn't always been the best... working together.”  
“I've loved every second of sharing that part of our lives together, Harry.” Ron took his hands and squeezed them. “But I think it's time to move on.”  
“It won't be the same without you though.”  
“It'll be better.” Ron swallowed. “Because then you'll be able to concentrate properly on the job without freaking out that I'm going to get injured. And I know you do.”  
“Only because it's already happened four times!”  
“Look, I'd rather not get into to how shit an Auror I am.” Ron scowled at him. “I've had too much to drink and you know I'm a depressive drunk.”  
  
Harry hung his head and nodded, ashamed of himself for bringing up the exact number.  
  
“And hey, if I'm working with George, I'm potentially a hell of a lot safer, right?”  
“I wouldn't go that far. Remember the Christmas Cracker incident?”  
“I've still got the scars.” Ron shivered.  
  
The pressure was building in Harry's gut. “Ron, you're making me anxious. Please just spit it out.”  
“So... I figured, if we weren't working together any more, but we live together... the next step would be...”  
  
He stared, obviously hoping Harry would catch on so he wouldn't have to vocalise whatever he was thinking. The cider must have dulled his brain though, because Harry was confused.  
  
“What? We'll still live together. But we'll see each other less.”  
“I was thinking that what if we... did something, which means that priorities change?”  
“Like what?”  
“We could get married,” Ron whispered. “Bonded.”  
  
Harry froze, well aware that his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. It couldn't have looked attractive. Ron's expression sank into disappointment as Harry said nothing, and just sat there.  
  
“I...”  
“You know what, it's fine.” Ron shrugged. “Stupid idea. Let's go back to the others.”  
“No, no, wait!” Harry protested, pushing his hands into Ron's chest. “Just wait, Ron.”  
  
He took a few deep breaths. Suddenly he was very aware of nature around them – the flowing river, the leaves in the trees around them, the deafening silence beyond them. It was Ron's breathing that he settled on, listening to the slight whistle in the redhead's nose and watching the rise and fall of his chest.  
  
“Nobody even knows yet. What are we going to say? 'Hi, we're gay together and we're also getting married – buy us gifts'?”  
  
Ron snorted. “I want a marriage, Harry. I don't want a _wedding._ ”  
“Thank fuck for that. I don't want a wedding either. Because I did half of that with Ginny before she scarpered. I'm _never_ picking a colour scheme for anything, ever again.”  
“I know. And that's fine.”  
“Promise?”  
“I promise.”  
  
Harry looked down between them.  
  
“No fuss? No bloody dress robes?”  
“We could do it right here, right now, Harry. There doesn't even have to be a single person to witness it. Magic's good like that.”  
“Really?”  
“Yup.”  
“Like... right now?”  
  
Ron's eyes widened. “If you want.”  
“Is it totally fucking insane?”  
“Probably. But if there's a night to do insane shit, it's when you've stayed up all night waiting for a sunrise, I s'pose.”  
  
Something was on fire in Harry's chest. It was the sort of burn he always got when he stood on the apex of something life-changing. And this _would_ be irrevocably life-changing, because it was Ron, and he loved Ron more than anyone else in the world.  
  
“Let's do it. Now.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Ron hadn't expected to feel so _different._  
  
It felt as though someone had filled him up with helium and staying on earth was hard. Harry's fingers were entwined with his own as they slipped back into the crowds around the now-dwindling bonfire.  
  
The sun was more up than down on the horizon. They ambled in silence back to where they'd last been sitting, but all traces of their night together had been removed.  
  
“Ron! Over here!”  
  
The holler came from over near the only smaller campfire to have food over it. He stopped and saw the majority of his family gathered around it, all clutching cups of tea. Their party was clearly over.  
  
“Are you ready for this?” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Harry. “I mean. We could wait, if you're not.”  
“Are you ready?” Harry teased. “Seems like you're not.”  
“Oh sod off, Harry.”  
“Shut up. Husband.”  
“Fuck.”  
“I know, right?”  
  
They broke into laughter. Harry squeezed his hand.  
  
“C'mon. The worst they can do is disown you. And if they do, you'll have me.”  
“And that's all I want anyway, so...” Ron shrugged. “Fuck it.”  
  
With renewed vigour he pulled Harry towards his family. He held his breath as they came to a standstill in front of everyone. They were all silent and, for one moment, Ron thought they _were_ about to disown him.  
  
But the first person to get their mouth in gear, unsurprisingly, was his mum, who stepped forward in front of them and smiled.  
  
“I know that look.”  
“What look?” Ron asked nervously.  
“I just know.”  
  
She pulled their joined hands into her own and brought it up to her lips to kiss them.  
  
“At last. Blessed be, my beautiful boys.”  
  
Ron thought about making a quip about how much she'd had to drink, but her eyes were watering and she just looked so happy that he couldn't bring himself to do it. She pulled them both into a hug.  
  
“How did you know?” he whispered in her ear.  
“I'm your mother. It's my job to know things. That, and this blasted night does things to Weasley men. You all get overly romantic and it always, always leads to the best kind of trouble.”  
  
She patted his cheek.  
  
“Blessed be,” she repeated, and stepped away.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
